The view from my soapbox.

Sorry for the delay (and no promises on the next installment!) – I haven’t felt much like writing…. for the past 6 months (if we’re not counting the haiku).  This is not a fuzzy post about how great Peace Corps is, nor is it a rant against Peace Corps.  But it is a dissatisfaction with the land I represent in Colombia.

Additional apologies if certain words don’t mesh well.  As my Spanish has improved it seems my English has begun to falter.

Disclaimer: My intention in writing this is in no way an attempt to diminish the experiences of women.

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#yesallwomen

Though I may be a bit out of the loop on US current events and cultural trends, a few things have still managed to find their way into my awareness.  Hashtags being one such thing.  Even though I haven’t logged into my twitter account in over a year, hashtags are still used on Facebook (no idea why…) by many friends and #yesallwomen among others have rolled through my newsfeed from time to time in the past months.

In a political philosophy course in college, I wrote a final about… ultimately a jumble of things.  Mostly because it was still such a fresh idea in my head and I was getting lost in all of the related issues.  It’s still a half-assed idea in my mind.  But the main source of my internal conflict surrounded the issue of charitable giving and short-term aid.  I’ve always been upset that people needed a reason to help others less fortunate and furthermore, that so many seem only to do things because it’s the easy road to writing it off.  Celebrities take a ‘trip’ to Africa and come back to their excessive lifestyles with gusto.  The average man or woman writes a check.  Or, increasingly, writes a tweets or posts a new status.  Ta-da!  Look how much I care!  Look how much hard work we’ve done in the name of justice and equality!

I didn’t bother to try and count the number of tweets with the hashtag #yesallwomen.  #sitodaslasmujeres has a whopping thirteen tweets.  You read that correctly! Thirteen – the big 1-3!

So maybe not all women then.  #نعم جميع النساء had one tweet and#ouitouteslesfemmes had none.  A small sampling of women.

When I come home I have two choices of where to get off my bus.  Option 1 is a moderately well-lit, two block stretch which passes two tiendas, where 9/10 times men are passing the time with cervezas.  Option 2 is just around the corner and is a poorly-lit, one block stretch that is quite desolate after dark.  During the day, I feel only the mildest of discomforts taking either option.  In the dark (after 6pm), my though processes change.

I wore a dress out to watch a movie with a couple of friends this evening.  As my bus started to approach my neighborhood, I started to think about these options.  I knew there would be comments if I got off at the tienda.  I knew there would be the hissing, the “hermosa”s, “mi reina”s, and possibly the types of phrases that make me wish my Spanish wasn’t improving.  Being verbally harassed every time I leave my home is part of life.  Which made me realize that I always choose Option 1 after dark is because Option 2 contains the potential of a much more physical harassment.

This is part of life here, unfortunately.  It really makes no difference if you’re black or white or trigueña.  If you’re a member of the ‘fairer’ sex, aren’t visibly elderly, and have hit puberty, chances are, you’ve been piropo-ed (hit on/cat called) going about your daily business.

I get it.  You’re all trying to make a difference from your hand-held device of choice.  You think some smart comment with a #yesallwomen is real work.  Unfortunately, it’s not and the only thing you’ve actually managed is to exempt yourself from actually having to do anything substantial.  To the women and men who make issues of inequality and injustice their life’s work, please, continue to tweet away.  You’ve earned it.  Though chances are you already know the real work is a bit more than 140 characters.

The rest of you, open your eyes and look around.  You think you’re changing the world – by starting a movement that doesn’t extend beyond your own borders.  My girls have never heard of #yesallwomen and they never will.  The majority of whom are encompassed in ‘all women’ will never know about your ‘movement’ to empower them because all you’ve done is fed into a cycle of compassion fatigue and removed yourself from feeling any responsibility to do something to actually improve the situation from your position of power (oh yeah, rest assured you have oodles of privilege over the women I interact with, hope my saying that doesn’t set your teeth on edge!).

And sadly, because you’ve removed yourself from having to take any further action, you will likely never have even the remotest idea of what women actually go through in the real world.

I hope (as my Spanish improves) to have a girls group in my school to discuss these issues of self-esteem – to empower them beyond finding their value in the number of piropos received in a day.  It’s not much, but when I think of women’s empowerment, changing the world for a better place… well, change requires action, not words.

 

From Colombia with Love

Haiku.

Babies driving Mercs.

Teens decked out in Michael Kors.

So this is Peace Corps?

Perspective.

If there’s one thing I seem to constantly need to remind myself of in life, it is of perspective.

Last week I was up just after dawn and out until late afternoon, helping teaching swimming lessons in La Boquilla (a beach-locale volunteer site), in the ocean.  Friday I accompanied my future teachers to the white sand beaches of Playa Blanca, which ended up being a truly all-day affair.  And Saturday Blanca, Sarah, and I visited Paul and Mike D on the island site, Caño del Oro.  I was so ready for Sunday and the chance to have nothing to do.

And then the nothing to do didn’t end.  And Christmas was suddenly almost here.  And everyone seemed busy with their own lives.  And I was able to get away without washing my hair almost the whole week because I had nothing to leave the house for.  Basically I was bored and feeling pitiful and lonely during my favorite holiday, which I was hoping to let pass with little pomp or circumstance.

Team Tiburones (Sharks)!

Playa Blanca

Blanca, Paul, and Sarah, at the island.

Exploring the old buildings/former leper colony.

Catching alternate transportation home.

And then I was reminded that life is life.  It’s easy to get wrapped up in our own problems and forget the world outside – to forget that both the people we love most and the strangers in the street are dealing with the ups and downs as well.  Our stresses, failures, heartaches, joys, they might look different, but the feelings are the same.

I finally got out of the house today.  Blanca and I went to a gift-giving/information session put on by the organization Amigos Positivos and the Cruz Roja.  I learned more about the organization, which works to inform the population on safe sex practices, creating safe spaces for the LGBT community, and healthy choices for people living with HIV/AIDS, and education in general.  So I spent my morning with a group of mothers and their children, all HIV+.

A reminder on perspective.

Children receiving gifts from Amigos Positivos.

And then, while we were waiting to meet up with other volunteers in the Centro to get lunch, I saw a man almost jump from the roof of a building.  Luckily the fire department/police tackled him down and drug him off the roof.

A double dose of perspective.  In the face of children who will live their lives with the stigma of HIV/AIDS and a person who, for whatever reason, was ready to end their own life, I really haven’t much to cry about.

Because I seem to have an over-abundance of love in my life (even when I hit the bumps in the road and everything makes me miserable), I bought a string of lights and turned on the Christmas music.  A forced change of perspective.

Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas from Colombia –

Sarah

Another kind of education.

After a internet-less weekend, my host siblings and I have taken to playing poker occasionally. Marie, my sister, is especially insistent on playing after realizing she’s quite lucky, wiping us out her first time playing. We were listening to some of my music last night while playing and a Macklemore song came on – I know my siblings recognize quite a few US singers, however they’d never heard anything by him. I asked if US rap/hip hop was very common here; I assumed probably not because A) it’s in English and B) it’s probably too fast for anyone to even try and understand (I have trouble sometimes).  And it’s really not – they know the big names but the music itself isn’t as common. They then entertained me for a minute, listing off the few lines of English rap they knew….. which led us to a conversation on race relations in the US.

I’m no expert, but the n-word is pretty commonplace in rap.  It’s also a word that doesn’t carry any real connotation without the context of our history in the US.  Keeping things as relaxed as possible, I took a minute to point out that this word is actually something incredibly derogatory in the States and just to be aware that, while it might not be something Colombians have any reaction to, tourists, etc., might be taken aback at hearing it used – should such a situation ever arise.

This led to a brief conversation on our history with slavery, the civil war and its purpose, the civil rights era and how there was legal inequality until only a few decades ago. Even today, the current disfunction of our government has some clear roots in racism, at least from my observations the last 5 years. It was a little difficult to fully explain because of Colombia’s own, different, history with slavery and race relations. I’m not knowledgable to comment on any real contrasts, but I tried to explain that it’s more than just a single act, but every decision taken since whites first arrived on the continent. Our history is shaped by a resistance to equality and treating ‘others’ with the dignity and worth deserved by every being.

They wondered why it was used then, in music, if it’s such a terrible word.  I did my best to explain all of this and how there are two main views on the use of derogatory terms – 1) using it to reclaim power and 2) that they should absolutely be stricken from our collective vocabulary.  I’ve never had a strong feeling about this either way, I could understand the perspective of each view.  Though after this cultural/historical exchange, I find myself leaning much more definitively on the second view, against the use of the n-word.  Nothing proliferates more quickly and widely than US pop culture.  Without the context of our history, a person cannot understand the significance of a word that evokes such deep emotion.

This isn’t the first (and I’m sure it won’t be the last) conversation I’ve had about general differences in history, culture, values, etc., but it was certainly the most eye-opening and a good lesson for me in not assuming anything.  I hope the next history lesson is for me, I certainly have a lot to learn about this country and how its past has shaped the present. And while my Spanish is not remotely adequate to do such a topic justice, it was one thing I could do, with the news of the loss of Mandela still on my mind, to continue the work of equality started generations before me.

Not particularly anything about the Peace Corps here – just the beauty of sharing aspects of our culture with another person and realizing the lessons we can learn by simply asking a question.

From Colombia With Love.

24. Veinticuatro.

We are officially within the two year marker.  720 days – give or take – of sweltering heat, sticking to bus seats, and near 24/7 Español.  And fresh fruit with every meal, beautiful vistas, and the ocean just one sweaty, $.75 bus ride away.

Since arriving in Cartagena, I’ve spent every morning at my school, sometimes helping out in the classroom, though mostly just hanging out with students and answering the same questions about One Direction and the meaning of my tattoos over and over again. And being drown in hugs, cheek kisses, being led around with a little girl on each hand. It’s hard to have a problem with that.

It was requested that I better explain what my job here will be, and I realized I haven’t actually touched on that aspect (the most important one) of my time here in Colombia at all.

After a few conversations at my school, I became aware that the current English teacher will not be working at Maria Auxiliadora (or Mauxi, as I’ve come to learn) next year, the first surprise of my service.  Not entirely terrible, as I’ll be working with someone who will also be new.  Then it was explained that there is no English teacher in primary school (Pre-Escolar –  6th grade), however this is the area that they most want program development.  Throw in the fact that I was currently expected to be at school every day from 7am-1pm, and I hadn’t actually started work nor have I done my observation period, and I was a little worried about the expectations I was walking into.

I sat down with my rectora (principal), Hermana Beatriz, and we talked through some of my concerns (namely, the fear that they might expect me to be the primary English teacher).  The worst possible outcome of my time here would be to leave and have everything I worked towards, fall apart.  To have left everything I loved to try and accomplish something sustainable and then see it deteriorate upon my departure would, for me, be a complete failure.  We agreed that I was only here to support the English teacher in secondary and I wouldn’t assist in any classes without previously having lesson planned with my counterpart.

We also came up with a bit of a game plan for a primary program – in general, I’ll be working with all of the primary teachers on developing their English skills and then helping to create lessons and activities to supplement whatever students are currently learning.  So the English they learn will be both basic as well as cover a variety of subjects (Math=shapes, etc; Science=environmental vocab, projects in English, etc).  I’m really excited to work on this model as I can see it being more relatable and at the end of the day, fun.

But for now, my host mom is hanging up decorations for Navidad, school will end for the year next week, and I foresee many siestas and lazy days, taking in the heat, the city, and the beach until the 2014 school year starts in February (during which time I will begin observing classes for several weeks).

Final day of school for 11th grade before graduation!

They had a band come to perform (way cooler than my high school ever did…). The Colombian mullet is alive and well.

Proving to Marie that my nail polishes aren’t ALL red.

Sister-bonding time. Granted she’s much more talented with nail polish than I am. It’s almost like we’re really related…

As always,

From Colombia, with Love.

Cartagena, gracias a dios.

Well friends, I am officially living in lovely Cartagena.  It is a truly beautiful and vibrant city – until you travel south of the Walled City.  I’ve always been a believer in finding beauty in unconventional places, but it certainly a bit rougher once you get out of the tourist hubs.  I completely understand why every told me there are two Cartagenas: one for tourists and ex-pats, the other is real life.

Taking a ride through the Walled City with Magnolia.

The view of the coast and Boca Grande from the Wall.

A shot of the Centro.

Barrio Getsemaní, just outside the Walled City, but same lovely architecture.

I’m living next door to my school (literally, my bedroom window overlooks the courtyard. I leave for the day to take a siesta and am lulled to sleep by the sound of screeching/giggling girls playing) with a family of four: My host parents Jesus and Alba, and my host siblings, Jesus (21, and in university) and Marie Alejandra (16, just about to graduate from high school).

My new bed.

My new, messy closet.

The kitchen.

Living room.

I feel so lucky to be in this arrangement.  The whole family is incredibly welcoming and laid-back, I heard a never-ending stream of “tranquilo, tranquilo”s my first few days, when I would ask how they liked things done, etc.  They’ve gone out of their way to accommodate me and to ensure I’ve got a handle of the area and how to get to major spot and to make sure I’m involved in activities (my host brother just invited me to start playing volleyball with a group of people in the evenings).

I’ve had quite a few good conversations in Spanish which has made me feel 100x more confident in my ability to learn the language – it’s slow coming and there are still times when I kind of throw my hands up and say ‘lo siento, no entiendo’, but they’re becoming fewer and farther between – it’s this constant immersion thing.

And to top it all off, my friend Magnolia, met through my family in Barranquilla, and I spent the last two afternoons bumming around the Centro, eating fresh fruit and arepas (and in my case, too many desserts…) and even went to an art exhibit/presentation on sound as a means of narration (though I was too tired to even try and keep up with the panel).

In general, I think Cartagena suits me well and I’m really excited to start exploring more, get to ‘know’ the beach one of these days, and keep plugging away at the Spanish. And the fact that I get to eat ANYTHING I WANT makes me unspeakably happy.

Oh, and we officially became volunteers.

Swearing-In Ceremony

From Cartagena with Love,

Sarah

Bonus, some adorable niñas from school. I had to open her pony malta while they questioned me about who knows what. I think there was a birthday in their class today, thus the princess tiaras.

26…25.

So I’ve managed to go an entire month without touching my blog.  Sorry friends, haven’t had internet… and to be honest, I haven’t felt much like writing a blog post.  I haven’t even written in my journal.  It’s been an emotionally trying two months here in Colombia.  Frankly, I’ve preferred to keep any deep thoughts on my feelings at bay because it’s been a bit of a crash landing.  The only upside is I was left with two options: go home or wait for things to look up.

I think they’ve started looking up.  Of course, the same feelings still apply (I miss you all terribly), but I’m excited now.  So, without further ado, I will recap the last month in photos.

We had practicum.  Or more like, we didn’t.  I observed a few classes, but the rest of our scheduled days were cancelled for various reasons.  TISA.

Mural at my practicum school.

My host-nephew turned 14.  Feel free to be jealous of his cake and the use of fireworks as a birthday candle.

Harold David (in green)’s birthday, to the right are my host-sister-in-law, my host-brother, and my host-niece.

Playing some fun games… Oh, and our government shut down for a while there.  Go Congress!

My neighborhood, various angles, lighting, etc.

This man walks around the park with his dogs in the morning. He has 4 Chihuahuas and a Yorkie. They’re typically all in dresses.

Colombian exercising?

And then the looking up happened.

This is me, looking shocked as all get-out, upon learning I was going to spend the next two years in Cartagena.

I will officially be working with the English teacher at IED Maria Auxiliadora in Cartagena.  An all-girls Catholic school.  I had to blot some tears away upon reading I would be working in an all-girls school.  The school has requested help in developing a primary school English program and intensifying the secondary program.  As well as leading teacher-trainings to increase proficiency.

So off to Cartagena the 9 new volunteers went, packed into the little Peace Corps van.

A view of the walled city. Better pictures to come.

Boca Grande in the distant.

And finally, my beautiful, quaint, welcoming school.

The outdoor auditorium, where I arrived to find 500 students waiting to greet me. Not at all nerve-wracking.

Primary building on the right.

Got to watch part of a kickball match between 10th and 11th grade. 

My counter-part’s classroom. I was swarmed by about 10 of these fourth graders at one point. So many questions and a whole lot of touching my clothes and petting my hair.

  

I’m going to keep this short because I was up at 5:45am to get to my school and didn’t get back until after 4, but I love my school and am excited to start working with the students.  I can’t wait for people to visit so I can share this with all of you!

From Colombia with Love,

Sarah

PS – I got robbed.  He didn’t get much and the cop filing the report laughed when I told him he only got my purse and my crappy PC Nokia and $5.  Definitely was a reality check, have to be cautious and smart.  Don’t dar papaya.

Expectations.

Life, man.

My host brother and his wife are currently on their way to Los Angeles for work and so I’m spending the day with my host parents at my host brother’s home.  They have internet, thus an updated post, but light on pictures for the moment.  I have to say, the good life in Colombia is preeeetty good.  My ‘sister-in-law’ owns a clothing store and in general they do quite well.

My host dad and niece.

So what have I been up to this week?….

On Sunday I went to playa del Salgar with current volunteers living in Barranquilla and those of us remaining in Barranquilla for site visits.  Finally, we made it to the Caribbean.  It was a nice, relaxing afternoon and it was especially nice to be able to talk more with the current volunteers about their experiences with the program.  For me, it’s been a bit difficult seeing my place in the Teaching English for Livelihoods program.  I am not an English teacher, nor do I have a single iota of formal education in my background, unlike most of my fellow trainees.  On Monday and Tuesday I observed a volunteer in his school in South Barranquilla.  It was an experience to say the least.  On Monday, the students went home early because it was raining, and on Tuesday it was difficult to find a class that had students and a teacher (many had one or the other). Classroom management was a bit lacking and in general, it was a difficult learning environment as the concrete classrooms are next to a busy street and the trucks driving by make it near impossible to hear anything.  My volunteer was a trooper – he was still positive and making the best of the situation (he also runs an afternoon English club), despite the fact that the teachers he was supposed to be working with weren’t entirely cooperative.  It’s a very, very different culture here.

Afterwards we went to the mall and had Crepes and Waffles and I had a giant ice cream cone (it was delicious).  And then there was this.

Colombian mannequins. Muy interesante.

On Thursday we began practicum – a handful of us are assigned to a school and each trainee is paired with an English teacher.  Our first day we were set to observe a class so that the following three Thursdays we could plan and teach lessons. In Spanish.

My teacher was sick and one of the other teachers had me flip through the chapter they were working on and told me I would still need to prepare a 50 minute lesson plan… over what material? Your guess is as good as mine.  I then observed one of this woman’s classes.  I had been excited for this school – the students seemed to be well behaved overall and things were much more organized and well managed.  But then class lasted maybe 15 minutes once everyone had finally calmed down and taken their seats.  I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do come Thursday this week, but I’m assuming things will work themselves out.

A few days will bring us to the 1 month mark.  It feels like I’ve been here much longer. I truly enjoy the country and the people (even though they never understand me, even when I know I’ve said the right thing), but it’s hard.  I’ll have a really great few days or even a week, but at the end of the day I miss going for a run and not looking over my shoulder.  I miss cool weather… seriously, 107F heat index today.  I miss staying up until two in the morning and feeling safe wandering around late at night by myself (I actually do not go farther than a couple of blocks alone in the evenings, or after 6:30pm).  I miss baking and stuffing my face with cookies.  I miss my family – I didn’t realize how much until I sat in the cafe internet and skyped with my family for my Mom’s birthday, and then cried.  The owner probably thinks I’m unstable with how many time I’ve cried in there……

I miss my independence and the people I love.  But I’m still carrying on.  One of the main things I’ve learned, is that Peace Corps Volunteers cry a lot.  It’s kind of nice knowing we all have our ups and downs and that you’re all just an email, phonecall, or skype-date away.  I know the whole ‘teaching English’ thing might not work out as I’d initially thought it would, but there seem to be many opportunities for secondary projects – girls groups, English clubs, health and nutrition, and HIV/AIDS awareness, etc.  I’m keeping an open mind and hopefully I will find a site that is a good match and is also open to collaborating.

I’m going to try and catch up on some Breaking Bad while I’ve got the chance, so I’ll leave things here.

I love you all – I have December and January pretty free, so come visit!

From Colombia With Love

27

This is a bit late…. Pretend it’s actually the 7^th and I’ll try to update sooner next time!

—

Before my updates, I want to express my abounding gratitude for the comments in response to my last post.  Your words of love and support (in combination with a much needed/positive Skype date and a couple of moderate cries) lifted my spirits more than words can adequately express.  During our first days in country, we had to tell everyone something important we’d brought with us from home as part of a round of introductions.  My object is John Lennon, my teddy bear.  I told everyone he was a representation of all of you here with me (and something tangible I can hug when I’m feeling alone) – an ambassador of sorts.  And so with the help of your words, John, and a little Skype, I’m really beginning to feel more at ease in this country.  Turns out this blog might be benefitting my mental health more than its original purpose, to keep you all updated on my life here in Colombia.

And so thank you, thank you, thank you.  Right now, it is all of you keeping me here.

—

27 months.  It’s a hard number to swallow.

I’ve been focusing more on the things to do here, the interactions, the limited exploring I feel comfortable with, than the experiences they’ve been exchanged for.  It helps me believe that, after so much waiting, this will still be all I’ve hoped it could be; or at least give it an honest opportunity to try.

I had a nice talk with my host mom, Olga, one evening.  She told me her reasons for allowing a Peace Corps volunteer into her home – that she had learned at church, reading her Bible, that she was to be charitable, hospitable, and kind.  This was why she opened her home to me.  And she wants to be there to talk to me when I miss my family or wait for me at the café internet, even if I come out clearly having just cried on Skype because “extraño mi novio” or “mi mejoramiga”.  She said it made no difference to her what you believed, but that you had respect.  I told her I couldn’t agree more with her entire mentality.  I have a pretty good home here 🙂

On Friday, Colombia played Ecuador for a seat in the World Cup next year.  From what I’ve heard, the team in general is pretty terrible, but fútbol day is an incredible experience.

We received permission from the PC office to end classes early on Friday, at 3pm, to partake in this cultural event.  Just as classes were coming to a close, storm clouds began rolling in, loud cracks of thunder shortly followed.  As we waited for our buses, it began to sprinkle and we all packed on a single bus headed for calleochenta y cuatro (84^th Street), where the city of Barranquilla was supposedly to converge upon.  By our arrival to the neighborhood, there were arroyos whipping down the streets – I’m talking cars were barely making it through them without floating back down the hill.

Many of us took refuge in a TexMex restaurant across the street (where there were 2/1 margaritas).  We settled in, had a drink, ordered some food and waited for the game to begin.  Ten or fifteen minutes in, and we were plunged into darkness.  The power on our block was out.  We finished up our food and moved on to another location, just a street down.  Turns out, in Colombia, the party starts and ends at the liquor store.  There were tents set up outside the liquor store with a big screen and people as far as the eye could see.  You walked up to the gated door of the liquor store, bought either beer or a bottle of liquor, and returned to the street.

In summary, the streets were flooded, it was raining and everyone was soaked to the bone, and bottles of Johnny Walker and Aguairdiente were being passed around the various groups of people.  And then Colombia won, 1-0.  And Calle 84 literally closed down as a sea of yellow jerseys filled the several adjacent streets.  An impromptu street dance commenced and we stayed out dancing and enjoying the general surrealism (at least to me…) of the moment until the late hour of 10:30pm.  I couldn’t keep up with the Colombians – and I’ve officially decided I’m not even going to attempt it.

On Sunday, our fun and ever-chevere language and cultural teacher, Cata, took us to explore a bit of the city.  We toured around El Prado, where all of the old colonial homes are located.  It was hot and a lot of walking (and I didn’t wear my comfy Birkenstocks…), but very beautiful.  And Cata made Paul and me go to a drug store and ask the cost of a women’s deodorant.  Naturally, Paul made it thoroughly awkward for me by saying the tiny size wouldn’t be enough

El Prado Hotel

We finished the day with a nice lunch at a vegetarian restaurant – yep, they exist!

Some very opinionated street art.

Today, my family was out all day for a church event and I watched TV in Spanish all morning.  And then watched Back to the Future in Spanish.  Then I sat out by the pool with Caitlin and Hannah, my first guests, for a few hours and ended up with a bit of a sunburn (so no more asking why I’m not tan yet, you know who you are).  And then I made spaghetti from scratch (the sauce didn’t turn out as well as I’d hoped) and watched Ocean’s 11 in Spanish.  I also organized some of the files on my computer and made some new music playlists.  It’s a little tricky entertaining oneself in an unknown city, with a beginner’s knowledge of the language, and a boss trying to convince you you’re probably going to have your purse stolen on the bus.

All in all, a fun weekend.

From Colombia With Love –

I am a giant in Colombia.

Hello everyone!

I officially have a host family (who I haven’t gotten pictures with yet) – Olga and Pablo, a couple in their 70s who live in a condo in the north of the city.  They also don’t have internet (I’m at the neighbor’s, who’ve been generous enough to let me use theirs for a bit). They do remind me a LOT of my own grandparents – Olga is very social and will often be chatting/gossiping on her phone with friends and Pablo does his own thing and will watch some TV in the afternoon or read the paper or just take a siesta.

They’ve been very accommodating to me, I’m more or less on a Colombian version of my own diet (with a bit of fish, otherwise I’d be hungry and a hungry Sarah = an irritable Sarah). I have two host brothers (both are grown and out of the house), one lives in Barranquilla, near our house and we’ve been to visit several times.  He has three children, though I’ve only met the middle one in passing.  Harold is 13 and Isobela (not quite sure on the spelling in Spanish) is almost 2.  Me and Harold are pretty good buds I’d say – he speaks a little English and he’ll speak that to me and I’ll respond with Spanish (and sometimes vice versa when neither of us knows how to communicate in the other’s language).  The other son lives in Bucaramanga, and I have no idea when or if I’ll get a chance to meet him.

A few pictures before we proceed…

Making some shadow puppets in the hotel because Caitlin and I were in a very giggly mood – most likely after I thought the maids took my sheet, though they had only folded it all the way to the bottom of the bed…

My casa in Barranquilla.

And my little niece, who some days isn’t afraid of me and other days is.

We went to the Museo del Caribe, a pretty cool (chevere) museum about the Caribbean areas of Colombia

After I spent the evening with the extended family and then came home and watched a bit of TV with Olga.  This morning we learned the bus routes with our Spanish teacher and Spanish groupmates.  Our group ended up being a the four girls from our Spanish group and we have a reaaaally easy way to the school for classes and to the office (and will likely be taking a taxi together every day instead of the buses).  So then we went to the mall.  Holy moley do they have some niiiiice malls.  Sure, I’ve been to some nice malls too, but these, I’d only be able to shop there if my parents took me 😛

Also, my new nickname is some variation of Yuca.  Sarita Yuca, Yuckita… sure it’s a root kind of like a potato, but it’s also a slang term in Colombia… for big feet.  I’m kiiiind of a giant here.  Seriously.  I’m a head taller than pretty much all the women, even when some of them are wearing heels.  Soy Sarah Yuca.

Paul, the only guy in my Spanish group, getting some shade.

El Colombo – the training center we’ll be studying at.

This one’s for Georgia ^, and I had subway for lunch.  They have much better lettuce than we do in the states….

I’ll close this up with the more serious side of this whole experience so far.  I’d be lying if I said the last few days were anything but difficult and very trying.  My spanish definitely isn’t up to par and my brain is absolutely exhausted by 6pm.  Even writing this is a little difficult because I’m starting to get used to needing to translate everything.  But it’s coming along. At some point every day I’ve seriously questioned why I’m here.  And because I haven’t had any internet I’ve been journaling.  The other day I noted something along the lines of “I now understand why so many people ‘settle’ and give up their dreams, following them is so difficult”. It’s easier to stay and be happy with the people you love than deal with the homesickness, discomfort, anxiety, fear.  That’s just the tip of the iceberg of a long list of emotions that make this hard.

I want all of my family/friends/mi amor, to know how important your support is to me and how much I love you all.

From Colombia with Love,

Sarah